


Fictober 2020 One Piece Fills

by AmnesiaticRoses



Series: Fictober 2020 Fills [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Memories, Multiple Personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmnesiaticRoses/pseuds/AmnesiaticRoses
Summary: These are un-beta-ed, largely unedited and hastily written, since I'm trying to keep to writing about one a day. So, apologies if there are issues with them! Some are stories I thought about writing for a while. Some are short scenes I might turn into longer fics in the future. And some, I admit, were thrown together on a whim. Quick summaries of each story are in the end notes.
Relationships: Bartolomeo & Cavendish (One Piece), Coby & Helmeppo (One Piece), Roronoa Zoro & Usopp, Tony Tony Chopper & Usopp, Usopp & Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: Fictober 2020 Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984177
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. Prompt 1: In Friend's Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams have been the one constant in Brook's afterlife, and they've been turning dark of late.

As a living human, Brook never really wondered where dreams came from. His friends speculated that dreams came from your brain entertaining itself while your body rested, and he believed it not out of any deep thought, but because the idea was poetic. That your mind had its own fancy -- it would daydream the way you would daydream, but without -you- attached. 

But then, of course, he’d died. And while in the aftermath of his death he’d had a lot on his mind (except he didn’t have a mind anymore, just an empty hollow. Skull joke!) the thing that occupied him the most some days? The fact that he could still dream.

When he allowed himself to drift off, the scenes were pleasant enough. Having tea with Yorki. Sharing veiled, bawdy tales with Madaisuki. Practice with the rest of the ship’s little band, each of the musicians pretending not to notice when other members of the crew crept in to listen. But whatever dream-him ended up doing, the _feeling_ remained the same. A warmth like a sunny day. The pleasantly unsettled feeling in his stomach brought about by doing something exciting. A sense of peace.

And then waking came, and with it, the darkness.

He would walk out on deck, forcing himself to look at each crew member. He took his time. There was nothing but time. He looked at each body, remembering the good.

Remembering the end.

He tried to keep his spirits up (ha ha!), telling jokes even though his audience was dead. Speaking aloud to the misty air just to hear a voice. And he tried to keep everything straight in his head, he _tried_. But in that shady halfworld that never changed, it all started to blur, really. He’d be drinking tea with Yorki, then wake to a world where the captain had left in a ship that would be his coffin, long gone and probably long dead, and it felt so unfair. So wrong. Yorki, his strong, brave, joyful captain could not be still and rotting, and so this gray world must be the dream, and the real life was the world with sunshine and tea and happiness. And over tea, he’d lean over and entreat Yorki not to go on the forested island that he dreamed would bring death. He warned his beloved crew about the poison he felt sure would bring that dark future that occupied the other half of Brook’s experience. Caught between two wholly different worlds, both asserting their reality, both asserting their unreality…

Brook feared he had begun to go mad. 

The appearance of the Straw Hat crew might have been the first thing in years that made the ship of the dead feel more real than his dreams. They brought a vitality that he’d rarely seen, as though each one in their own way carried a light to frighten back the oppressive atmosphere of the Florian Triangle. 

They drew Brook like a moth.

Joining their crew made him glad but also oddly … empty. You’d think a skeleton would feel empty all the time, but he’d spent most of his life feeling full -- of joy, of adventure, of regret, of despair. But suddenly, living people surrounded him, and routine settled in and suddenly all these intense feelings that had bottled inside him for years escaped, or drew back, or _something_.

And his dreams changed.

With the weight of real life easing, the darkness drew into his head. He dreamed of parting with Yorki -- so many time, reliving it again and again, begging his dying best friend as he sailed away with the rest of the sick men -- _no, come back, I can’t do this myself_ \-- and startling awake at the end to the sleepy murmurs of the Straw Hats in their hammocks. At those times, he felt glad that as they were only empty sockets, the pain pricking his eyes must be imaginary. 

One benefit of being a skeleton was the lack of a face meant reading you became much harder. It could be incredibly useful in battle, but it also meant that it took a full week into his time as an official Straw Hat member before someone asked him about it.

“Brook?”

It was Robin, catching him as he stepped onto the deck in the gray light of predawn. He’d had a feeling it would be her. A few of the guys had noticed his abrupt waking, but they weren’t the sort to pry -- and the ones who might pry hadn’t noticed. But Robin watched him, not maliciously, but carefully, and he thought he saw something familiar in her eyes. Maybe it was the sort of age that years couldn’t give you. Maybe it was the still-healing wound of too many secrets left to fester. But Brook had become a good watcher as well, over the years, so he waited for her to settle on what she wanted to say. Today, it appeared she had finally decided.

“Miss Robin. Just finishing your watch?”

She inclined her head, just once, in answer. “You’re up early,” she observed as they fell into step across the grass. 

“There is far too much going on with this crew to lay in bed too long,” he replied genially. The temperature said they were in an autumn zone, but he could sense a hint of spring on the breeze. He’d always felt the green smell of spring carried the promise of adventure.

They stood there in a comfortable silence together as the distant sun began to bring color back to the gray horizon. The freshening breeze caught the sails, speeding the ship a little. 

“Did you know the Enzetto people used to shed blood before a long or dangerous voyage?” she asked out of nowhere.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar,” he replied, wondering where this could be going. 

“Usually, some of the oldest members of the crew would board before everyone else and cut their arms, to spill blood on the figurehead,” she said, clinical as a teacher. “A ship with no blood spilled was called an infant, for they thought such a ship had as little chance on the sea as a baby would in the woods.”

It sounded a little morbid, and that’s coming from him. “I wonder how that tradition developed,” he said instead.

He didn’t expect an answer, it was more just an idle thought. But she said, “It stems from their belief about death. When a person dies, their soul joins the world, as a sort of energy. The energy that makes the wind blow and water run. And the energy of a person would hang around those they cared for in life. So by letting blood, the crew members were asking for the help of their deceased friends and proving that they were willing to step closer to death themselves and share in the suffering of the fallen to be worthy of that help.” 

She raised her head a little, letting the breeze brush back a few stray wisps of hair, then added, “Their term for a ship running fast before a perfect wind is a ship ‘in friend’s embrace.’”

“In friend’s embrace,” he repeated, mentally considering the words. 

Back below decks, something clattered and thumped. They both turned to see if whatever caused the noise would come out the door and onto deck, but a silence followed. 

Brook thought it sounded like the silence of a guilty conscience.

“Shall we go see if everything’s all right?” Robin asked, pushing away from the railing. 

He followed her without uttering an answer.

________

As a living dead man, Brook never really wondered where the wind came from. His friend told him once that some people believed the wind to be the souls of those we cared about, helping us on our adventures, and he chose to believe it not out of any deep thought, but because the idea was poetic. That those closest to you never really left you.

And that they would honor true sacrifice with a friend’s embrace.


	2. Prompt 2: Honesty in Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franky finds that sometimes, people can have VERY different experiences of battle.

Franky crouched low behind the rock outcropping, listening to the bullets whizz and ricochet overhead. But it wasn’t the gunners that had him worried. Bullets, he could handle. Even those stupid seastone ones that some people shot at him, assuming his awesome body was devil fruit-enhanced. 

But it was the actual devil fruits that had him crouched in this protective space, trying to plot out the next move.

Most of the crew was outside, fighting the main force of the pirate crew that was battling them for the treasure of this island. But they’d sent Franky and Usopp down here, into this cave, because it hadn’t taken long for them to discover that there was more to the island than rock and trees. Metal, worked metal, underpinned large swaths of the island. It mostly lay hidden under a layer of dirt and underbrush, but there was something there. Something big, and mechanical.

Hence sending Franky and Usopp down into the large cave on the west side of the island to see if they could find what all this metal might mean.

Except they weren’t the only ones down here. 

Captain Hopper hadn’t come down here -- probably couldn’t fit, the man was half giant -- but his lieutenant could, and the man had some sort of devil fruit power that let him grow -- and shoot -- thorns. Thorns that somehow pierces Franky’s metal skin even when normal bullets couldn’t.

Thorns that carried a poison he could feel seeping along in his bloodstream.

All in all, not an ideal situation for this mission.

He and Usopp had gotten separated at some point, which had Franky worried as well. It wasn’t that Usopp couldn’t take care of himself. Longnose-bro reminded Franky of a cat -- quick and skittish and hard to pin down and absolutely brutal when he decided to really fight. But Franky now had the information about old Thornface’s power, and being unable to share it so his crewmate could also make the best possible decision rankled him.

As another volley of attacks slammed into the rock, chisling loose several sizable pieces of it, Franky decided just sitting here wasn’t really all that cool. They weren’t going to get tired or bored. He needed to go on the offensive.

Luckily, that was what Franky excelled at.

Standing, he unloaded a full volley of his armaments at the group on the other side of the cave. They were pretty bunched up, maybe thirty of them, all watching his hiding place with gleeful expressions. 

It was a veritable pleasure to unleash the storm. 

The first few rockets blasted enough stone and dirt into the air that he couldn’t really see the results of the remaining weapons. But he could tell by the repeated, meaty sounds of falling bodies that he’d done a fair bit of thinning of that herd.

In fact, when the dust settled, the only one left standing was Thornface.

The guy looked to his left, then his right, taking in the unconscious forms of his crewmates. Studying them. Then he looked back to Franky, who watched with a grin.

“Effective,” the man said, not as a compliment, but more as a detached observation.

Then he attacked.

The guy moved fast. He was built like Zoro but moved like Sanji, all quick direction changes and high jumps and effortless dodges. Franky tried to get a bead on him with one, then another set of weapons, but the guy just kept moving. Left. Up. Around. A row of thorns slammed into him low on the left side. He spun, but the guy was still on the move, staying at the edges of his vision, laughing as he peppered Franky with another set of thorns, this time in the right leg. 

Frustrated, Franky inhaled and breathed out a cloud of fire, roasting the whole area around him in a beautiful wash of flames. 

That has to have got him.

Then another set of thorns hit him high across his chest, bold as brass. The guy was playing with him. This was a game.

Franky turned, intending to try the fire again but more. But before he could, the ground under Thornface split and crumbled as a series of vines spilled upward, eagerly latching onto the guy in a way Franky worried might get real inappropriate real quick. 

Luckily, the plants had more decorum than he feared, latching onto Thornface’s arms and legs but only holding him in place. He tried aiming his thorns at them, but was having trouble with the angle. And the vines didn’t mind the poison. Then, as Franky approached, the guy seemed to wither as though he were the plant.

“Hey now, no hard feelings,” he wheedled. “I was just doing the same as you, doing what the captain said. No need for-”

An iron fist turned out to be just the thing for shutting up noisy devil fruit users.

As he turned away from the unconscious foe, he saw Usopp walking in from one of the side tunnels, his Kuro Kabuto in hand and a few seeds between his fingers, ready just in case. As he entered the hall, he caught side of the mooks in their untidy heap and let out a low whistle. “I guess you didn’t need my help,” Usopp said.

“Nah bro, that was a perfect entrance.” Franky posed as though it had been his big entrance, not Usopp's. Then, in a more serious voice, added, “The guy wouldn’t stop hopping around. Like a bug. Those seeds really are useful for everything.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Usopp said. He was looking all around the cave as though expecting more people to boil out of another side tunnel or out of the floor itself. 

Maybe it was the poison, but Franky’s mind didn’t want him to let his crewmate deflect. Sure, Franky had taken out more people, but Usopp had taken out the strongest one, so they were even. 

“‘M serious,” Franky said, trying to remember which way was out. He did probably need to get to Chopper. They could figure out the secret of the metal later on. Maybe take Thornface there as a hostage. Remembering what he’d been in the middle of saying, he added, “I don’t know why you don’t like to fight. Bro, the array of stuff you have is amazing.”

Usopp muttered something. Franky couldn’t hear it over the … was that the sound of the ocean? 

“What?”

“I said fighting is the easy part.” Seeing Franky’s confused look, Usopp added, “Nevermind. We going down or back?”

But Franky wasn’t letting it go. “What did you mean it’s the easy part?” His mind seemed to be moving slower and slower moment by moment. Yeah. He definitely needed to see Chopper.

Studying Franky skeptically, Usopp said, “You look awful. Back. We’re definitely going back and getting you to Chopper.”

“Good idea,” Franky said seriously. “That guy’s thorns had poison.” He stressed the last word, as though it were something Usopp should have known.

The sniper blanched. “Poison?! Then yes, back, back to Chopper right now.”

He started walking back in what Franky assumed was the way out. He couldn’t quite remember. He took a few steps after his crewmate, then stumbled several steps sideways until he crashed into the wall to the left of the tunnel Usopp had taken. The sniper scurried back in.

“Come on,” Usopp said, getting under one of Franky’s arms and trying to haul him to his feet without success. “It’s going to be bad for everyone if I have to call my followers away from the fight to carry you, you know. You need to help me out here.”

But Franky’s legs felt tired and his mind seemed stuck in a loop. “Explain,” he said. “And I’ll walk. Maybe.”

Usopp scowled, then sighed. Then said, “It’s like … like jumping off a cliff, ok? Once you’re falling, all you have to do is go with it. It’s deciding to jump that’s the hard part.”

Franky could get that. Well, he thought he got it. And to keep up his end of the bargain, he climbed to his unusually heavy legs and began walking.

And thinking about cliffs. And jumping.


	3. Prompt 3: Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not super common for Bartolomeo to be the level-headed one, but when Hakuba comes out to play, sometimes he's willing to try.

Bartolomeo picked his way through the mess toward the back of the tavern, where a lone figure sat on a half-broken table, staring at the wall.

A “loss for words” wasn’t an experience he had often. There were always words. Bartolomeo had seen all kinds of shitty things in his life. Wars. Torture. Pirates going sword to sword, each seeing nothing but the need to spill the other’s blood. The Birdcage. Bartolomeo liked a fight, had even been known to attack people weaker than him at times, but found himself thankful for his devil fruit power. Because when a fight turned into savagery, he had the ability to separate and step back. Savagery, he generally didn’t want any part of.

“Will you turn me in? Cavendish asked, not looking up as Bartolomeo reached him.

Would he? He almost started to turn, to sweep his eyes around the interior of the tavern, to the new coat of paint drying to a bitter brown.  _ Don’t look. _ Bartolomeo kept his eyes on the other captain.

“How’d you let him do this, asshole?” he asked.

“I did this.”

THAT caught Bartolomeo off guard. “You did this? Seriously?” The disbelief was thick in his voice. Cavendish was fast, sure, but the few people who’d managed to escape the carnage in the taven this evening had said they couldn’t see what did it, in any way. They’d been “attacked by the wind.” Cavendish was a quick fighter, almost the opposite of Bartolomeo’s own strong and sturdy style. But you could still -watch- him. You could see that death coming.

No. An invisible killer could only mean one thing. So Cavendish had to be lying.

The other captain shrugged but didn’t answer. A few fine sprays of blood dotten his white shirt, his boots. Durandal hadn’t been fully sheathed -- another sign things weren’t normal, Cavendish had an unhealthy amount of love for that weapon in Bartolomeo’s opinion -- and he could see it had already been wiped clean. No one who didn’t already know who Cavendish was would even suspect him of being the cause of this. There was no way the murderer wasn’t positively drenched in gore.

“What do you mean, you did it?” Bartolomeo pressed, raising one leg and prodding Cavendish in the side with his foot. The fact that Cavendish wouldn’t even look at him while they talked was starting to grate on his nerves. Hell, that was why he liked doing it to other people. But they weren’t supposed to do it to _him_.

“He did this as a present,” Cavendish said. He sounded tired. Not imminently-falling-asleep, clear-the-room tired but something deeper. “Emma said she hoped that the next pirate to land here would be someone great like Captain Kidd. She was…” His head lifted, turned a little toward the remains of the bar, before he realized what lay over there and he returned his attention resolutely to the wall. “And I wasn’t … happy about it. But I was going to leave. Got up. But he came _forward_ , not like usual, not like a wild animal that you can collar and cage. This was an arrow. He took control, and by the time I pulled him back…”

Barolomeo raised his head and looked around the room again. The place had been busy. A saturday during the harvest festival. A three-piece musical group still lay on the little makeship stage, their instruments dashed into more pieces than their bodies, as an insult. A burly man’s body lay about ten paces from his arm. Judging by the matching slice in the woman’s body next to him, the man had tried to protect her and only added his blood to her killing blow. 

“This is his idea of playing nice so I’ll let him out more,” Cavendish added.

Well, Bartolomeo could have done without hearing that.

“And you’re just going to mope about it instead of doing something about it, Cabbage?” he goaded, eyes narrowing. Cavendish always hated it when Hakuba got free, but he was taking it harder this time than usual.

And Bartolomeo kind of got it. The harvest festival was a time for everyone to celebrate. He felt sure some of those bodies had been small, so small, but he wasn’t going to go back, look back, and confirm that. He didn’t need to know and it wouldn’t bring anyone back.

“What am I supposed to do?" Cavendish asked. “He’s getting stronger, smarter, more dangerous-”

“So you get stronger and smarter, idiot.” He kicked the table, shattering it to pieces and forcing the other captain to hop to his feet to avoid falling to the ground. “What, you hoping someone will kill you so you can be lazy about it? What makes you think that won’t just let him out full time? Don't whine about it, just be a better jailer!”

“Will you stop talking about it like it’s so easy!” At least Cavendish was looking at him now, and that blank stare was gone. Instead, that dangerous temper flashed in his eyes. 

But his temper wasn’t much more than a side note to Bartolomeo. “It’s not easy!” Bartolomeo spat out. “But it _is_ simple. You. Need. To be. Better. Because no one can do it for you. Though if you can’t keep him in check, I guess at least Luffy-senpai and the rest of that crap generation or whatever is out there. Even if you’re too weak to stop that thing, then any one of them should be able to.”

He knew that was Cavendish’s berserk button, and for a second Bartolomeo thought Cavendish might come at him -- his hand did make one short, aborted move toward the pommel of his sword. Then, with a disgusted noise, he turned on his heel and strode through the sea of butchery, pointedly looking straight at the door. After a few seconds, Bartolomeo followed.

He wasn’t a praying man, but just in case the religious kooks were right, he tossed a little prayer to the sky that he’d never have to deal with this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had more ideas for these two. Or had a better handle on how to write Bartolomeo :D


	4. Prompt 6: Trial by Combat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting is something the Straw Hats find themselves doing often. And each of them definitely has his or her strengths.

In other circumstances, this might have been kind of fun. Dropped into a gladiatorial arena, facing a variety of enemies -- it’s an interesting challenge to face for Zoro. Just a low-stakes place to test himself.

Except the stakes aren’t all that low. Which kind of sucks.

Most of the crew is back on Joyride, an island of “Extreme” entertainment and experiences that, predictably, turned out to be a little more extreme than advertised. They have been trying to dig out whoever is behind the whole thing, kidnapping people and injecting them with some concoction that turns them into massive, mindless killing machines. One trail had led them to believe the source of the concoction may be on the neighboring island of Little Flower.

It should have been simple -- still was, really. His captain sent him over here on the Mini Merry to take care of whoever was making the stuff while Luffy and the rest finished rooting out the folks who were using it. After all, the two islands were in eyesight of one another. Just a quick jaunt over, finish things, head back … simple.

Heck, he’d even seen a castle at the highest point on the island, and as his experience with both Hogback and Mihawk had taught him, the big castle was often where you could find the most dangerous people.

But the island was apparently a damn maze, and every time he tried to get up to the blasted thing, he found himself somewhere else, dealing with the increasingly long time this was taking and the increasing agitation of his teammate who was following him, and so when he saw a set of bleachers with plenty of people in them, he headed over. They HAD to know how to get to the castle.

But somehow that ended with him in the middle of the arena, fighting a series of these bulked up, mindless monsters. It was a strange, cross-shaped arena, with a round metal fighting area in the center and four seating areas, with walkways between each of them in the four cardinal directions, leading back out.

They said if he could survive the gauntlet, they’d give him audience with their boss. They also said if he left, he’d sign the death warrants of all the remaining prisoners, locked somewhere in the castle.

He’d considered it. Decided against it, but certainly considered just marching up to the gates and cutting his way in and through until he got the answers his captain wanted. The deaths would be awful, but awful people were going to do awful things. He has no way to know if they’d even honor the agreement, that they wouldn’t just kill the hostages anyway, even if Zoro did everything they asked.

But having decided to take care with the fighting, he’s had to move carefully. If he was going all out, he could cut loose, but for this he has to be precise, keep his collateral damage to a minimum.

“Hey! Get your head in the game!”

Oh yes. There is also Usopp to worry about.

Worry is probably the wrong word. The sniper is actually somewhat better equipped for this than Zoro himself, since his weaponry tends toward the less lethal to begin with. He is somewhat hampered by the metal floor of the arena though, which gives no place for many of his more creative ammunition types to take root. Zoro is reasonably sure he heard some old standards like tabasco star get called out.

And together they’re making good time through the waves of enemies. It turns out the entire arena is meant to be their challenge, with each member of the audience strapped against their will with an auto-injection device that can be triggered remotely, but automatically injects the victim if they try to take it off. And it’s fast. Zoro tried to cut the thing off one man’s arm. But it hadn’t been fast enough. The guy had bulked up like Chopper on a Rumble Ball and joined the fray.

“Are they adding people to the audience when we’re not looking?” Usopp mutters as their paths bring them close together. Zoro sweeps a practiced eye across the remaining viewers.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Well it sure feels like it!”

They move apart, Zoro hopping over the unconscious forms of several defeated enemies whose bodies have begun to shrink to normal size again. The whole exercise is a bit irritating, but not terribly difficult. And maybe that’s what makes him look again. When it becomes clear this isn’t going the way their enemies wanted, they should change tactics.

And now he sees it -- what Usopp had seen as “more people” was the same number, but all moving closer, crowding toward the edge of the arena instead of remaining in their seats. He can see fear in some faces, a grim determination in others, and he just knows.

“Here they come,” He calls over his shoulder to Usopp. She sniper doesn’t answer, but he hears the man running across the arena to a new position.

And the final wave begins.

For a few minutes it’s all a blur -- face after face meeting the backs of his blades. Flashes of green and fire at the edges of his vision as Usopp does his work. And the wave becomes a crowd, becomes a few, until the arena is heaped with groaning people and only the two of them are standing.

Zoro stoops, checking on one still form at his feet, then turns to Usopp. “Let’s get moving,” he says.

Usopp starts to answer, but gets distracted. Zoro turns to see a fairly distracting sight, he has to admit. A large man, like the rest of these pumped-up freaks, but this guy seems to be in control of himself.

He also is in a strange, metallic rig that looks to Zoro’s eyes like some sort of complicated mining rig. Or maybe something for flattening uneven terrain. It doesn’t look built for combat, like something Franky might make.

Then the guy grins at him, and he sees electricity arcing between the machine’s two arms. Zoro pivots into a spin, swinging hard. The force of the strike doesn’t budge the guy in the armor, but it does sweep the unconscious men from the metal arena before the new opponent slams his metal hands down, electrifying everything.

Zoro can’t react right -- it’s like the electricity robs his muscles of their ability to respond. He’s rooted there, the waves of energy whiting out his mind. Then it stops and he comes to himself again, panting and twitching.

“Oi, Zoro!”

Usopp’s awake. That’s good. He must have gotten swept off with the unconscious guys by Zoro’s actions. Then something bonks off Zoro’s chest, and he looks down to see a pair of octopus-looking shoes falling to his feet.

“Wear those! It’ll hgk!”

The last isn’t a word Zoro recognizes. Though loathe to take his eyes off the enemy, he turns to check on his crewmate.

Who he finds scrabbling at the oversized hand round his neck, cutting off any further words. The new enemy has come up one of the walkways between the seating areas, surprisingly silent considering he’s enormous, bigger even than the guy in the metal suit. His hand encircles the sniper’s neck easily with room to spare -- for the giant at least. There’s clearly no room for Usopp, who’s struggling for breath.

He’s ready to strike the guy down, free his crewmate, but there’s a crackle, and a jolt, and again his movement is robbed from him. And when he gets it back, the massive man in front of him is drawing back one arm that would put a gorilla to shame, and he throws Usopp, throws a person the way one might toss a stick or a stone. This at least lets the sniper breathe again, just in time to release a scream that faces off into the distance. It’s a terrible, inhuman arc that the monster manages, and when Usopp lands on a low mountainside in the distance, it’s too far to even hear the scream anymore.

_He’s all right. He has to be_ , Zoro thinks. His crewmate has been through worse than that. And before he left…

Zoro looks at the ugly shoes just as a crackle warns him another attack is coming. He just barely hops atop the shoes when the electricity charges the arena floor again.

And this time, doesn’t reach him.

Zoro grins. The canned man pales, his own smile falling away.

It’s the work of a moment to fasten the shoes on his feet, but it’s OK because apparently, the monster won’t climb up with his partner’s active electricity weapon in use. The metal man tries to lumber over, but his armor makes him slow, ponderous. The octopus shoes clung to the floor in a way that feels strange and makes his own footing difficult, but it’s a small price to pay. Zoro approaches. Leaps to cover the last of the distance.

Once he gets there, it’s the work of a few seconds to render the armor useless. And the best part is, he doesn’t have to hold back.

The moment the metal man is down, he hears the other climbing up to join the fight, in a show of either dedication or complete foolishness. Zoro turns, eyeing the man. “Leave,” is the only warning he gives.

The man grins. Foolishness. It has to be foolishness.

Zoro is about to finish this when the man bows forward a little, as though someone slapped him in the back of the head. A moment later, a flurry of vines arch out, wrapping around his head. He pulls at them, tearing free handfuls, but more keep growing. As he staggers forward a pace as though pushed again, Zoro relaxes his stance. Another set of vines begin wrapping around the guy’s torso, pinning his arms, and soon he falls over, wiggling but unable to free himself.

Zoro takes a moment to remove the weird rubber shoes. A minute later, a suction cup comes flying out of the sky and fastens itself to the center of the fighting area, trailing a rope. A rope that pulls tight. Another brief wait, and he hears Usopp approaching -- letting out a combination of a sort of yodel and a terrified scream as he slides down the rope by hooking the stem of his slingshot over the rope and clinging to it, one hand on either side. He lands in an ungainly heap, but hops up almost immediately, ready for the next thing.

“That was impressive,” Zoro notes, pointing to the suction cup dead center of the ring. Firing a suction cup couldn’t be an easy thing.

“Thanks.” Usopp grins. “Though it looked like you had that fight wrapped up without my help. How did you like the shoes?”

Zoro looks down at the shoes, dangling from his hand, and hands them back. “Useful,” he admits, before adding, “Not my favorite shoes.”

“Come on, I bet they looked great.”

“They stuck to the floor.”

Usopp laughs. And together they head toward the castle.

Whoever’s there has no idea what’s coming for him.


	5. Prompt 8: Triage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the doctor needs a little medical care. But providing medical care can be a little bit unnerving for the uninitiated.

“You need to hold it steady.”

Chopper does his best to keep his voice calm and collected, because he can feel his crewmate shaking where he’s holding a wad of rags to the deep cut in his back. The enemies are down, and this wound isn’t bad, it’s not going to kill him. But that’s assuming he gets some rudimentary first aid on it.

Fixing this up would be the work of less than a minute in his hands and then they’d be on their way, back to the others, back to the ship. But even he can’t transform enough to reach his own back, and since he won’t be able to help anyone else if he is out of commission, this is kind of important.

And Usopp is trying, he seriously is. Even though Chopper hasn’t known the crew all that long, he trusts each and every one of them with important things.

But trusting them and them being remotely adept at his own specialty are two different things.

“Are you OK?” Chopper asks, aware of the irony. He doesn’t think Usopp got hit in the fight. He’s just still scared, even though the fight is over and it’s just a matter of getting out of these woods and back to everyone else.

Behind him, the sniper laughs nervously. “Yeah,” he says, and Chopper can hear the uncertainty like a lead weight in that word. It drops straight through him.

But then the man takes a deep breath. Exhales. The shaking in the hand quiets some. And when he repeats “Yeah,” Chopper actually believes it.

“Good. OK, I need you to take the bandages and wrap them around me to hold it in place. Start at my shoulder. Down over the wound, across my ribs and back up. Around and around. Like wrapping the handle of your slingshot,” he says, then mentally kicks himself. Everyone knows what around and around means without a practical example. Usopp must think he’s talking down to him. Ugh!

“How tight?” the sniper asks.

“A little tighter than you think,” Chopper says, and his mind drifts back briefly to the first time he wrapped a wound. The way he’d bound his cut leg in loop after loop of cotton cloth. The way it had all fallen down the moment he stood up. And how the Doctor had pressed Chopper’s little hoof to the wound and said _Press it, like you would if you wanted to stop the bleeding with your hand. That’s the pressure you need. Not too tight, but a little tighter than you think._

The first loop, he worries he wasn’t clear enough. But Usopp seems to realize it, and pulls the first loop a little tighter before continuing on to the second.

“You really haven’t had to do this before,” Chopper asks as the work continued, as much to occupy his crewmate’s mind as anything else.

“Not really,” he says. “Sometimes for the crew… the old … my friends, back at the island.” He starts loop three. “But it only had to last until they got home most of the time. Their parents would do it better then.” The shaking is almost gone, which is excellent news for giving even stop-gap medical care.

“Ah. And they never showed you?”

“It never came up.” Usopp adds a fifth loop then asks,”How many?”

Chopper flexes his back a little. “That’s enough,” he says. “Can you wrap it a few times straight around though?”

“Sure.”

It goes faster this time -- Chopper holds his hands up and Usopp walks in careful circles around him. Then that’s tied off, and while it still feels a little loose, Chopper thinks it should last long enough. Nami knows what she’s doing with a bandage. He should be able to get her to fix it when they get back.

“All right!” Chopper says, trying to exude enthusiasm. “Let’s go back to the ship!” He takes one step before getting stopped by Usopp stepping in the way, back to the doctor. “Usopp?”

“Get on,” Usopp says.

“Huh?”

“Get on. I’ll carry you back.”

“Um… thanks, but I can walk,” Chopper says, mystified by this treatment. Not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but…

Then he sees Usopp’s face, and with the blatant relief he sees there, he realizes a whole bunch of things. Like why the sniper’s hands were shaking despite there not being any dangers around. Like why he offered to carry him.

“I promise, it’s not that bad,” Chopper says.

“Oh. I see. It just … there was a lot of blood,” said Usopp, not really looking at him and instead looking off over to one side. “And you were acting like you couldn’t do it and you were trying to explain it to me and…”

“I asked you to do it because I couldn’t reach it,” Chopper says. “It’s too high on my back.”

Silence falls for a few beats. Then he says, “Oh.” Carried in that one word is a clear tone of _I’m an idiot_.

But if you hadn’t done it,” Chopper hastened to add, “It could have gotten bad. So really, thank you. You got the bleeding stopped. That’s important.”

“Oh.” This sounds at least less self-accusatory. “Well, I’m glad. Let’s go, then.”

 _He was worried about me_ , Chopper thinks, and despite the fact that he knows intellectually that his crew all worry about one another, it feels comforting to see it like this. Like a warm blanket on a cold day.

As they start walking, he can’t help but ask, “So you’ve got my back if this happens again right?”

“I’d rather you just keep yourself in one piece. I’m not doing that again if I can help it. Way too stressful. I’ll just have to keep everyone safe, me and my eight thousand men. Too bad they were all fighting a dragon when you got hurt. We’ll be more careful next time.”

And they head back to the ship, side by side.


	6. Prompt 14: The Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro doesn't like people messing with his crew.

Captain Baldridge looked at the paper in his hand. At the still form on the ground. Back at the paper.

Cotton Candy Lover Chopper. It was supposed to be a pet … wasn’t it?

He looked at the creature again. A … pet? This was a hell of a pet. The face looked kind of the same. More angular, less round and childlike, but similar. But the picture made the thing seem … well, kid-sized. This one looked a lot larger, more like a massive deer, with an incredible set of antlers that make it look kind of intimidating, even as it lay unconscious on its side.

“Barely worth printing the poster,” he muttered, looking down at the animal. It lay in the middle of three other unconscious people. The others all had gashes, hoof-shaped bruises, all the signs that one might expect to see on a body beaten into unconsciousness by a large, angry deer. They’d gotten a few hits in -- though he couldn’t begin to guess how many of the animal’s wounds had come from these three and how many had come from the massive brawl that had started in the middle of this pirate-friendly port an hour ago. The announcement had trickled down through the crowded streets and was whispered in the taverns -- anyone capturing and turning in one of the ten biggest bounties on the island at the moment would not only get the cash, but also a pardon for themselves.

Well, if this was their pet, maybe capturing it would bring one of the bigger Straw Hats to him.

Sunset had ended half an hour before, and full night had finally settled over the little clearing where he’d come across the creature. Captain Baldridge straightened up and looked around. The thicker trees all around kept the moonlight from reaching the ground anywhere but here. Lucky him. If this fight had taken place under the canopy, he’d never have seen the pet.

He slipped off his jacket, starting to tie one sleeve into a loop to prepare to drag the animal back to his crew. Now, he just needed to remember which way to the ship, and he’d be all-

“What’re you doing.” 

The words were a question, but the tone of the voice that drifted out of the dark definitely made it more of a statement. Captain Baldridge froze, eyes searching the darkness fruitlessly for the source.

“Just a little hunting,” he said, conscious of the weight of his sword on his hip. The voice had been low, barely a rumble in the darkness. 

“Hunting the unconscious?” 

The captain wirled. How had the voice gotten behind him. Ventriloquism? There was no way someone could move that quickly and silently. “What’s it to you?” He demanded.

“If you like hunting so much, maybe you’d like to try being the prey?” until now, the voice had been a bored monotone, but now, for the first time, a bit of emotion crept in. “We can see how long you last.”

And something in that voice just reached way down into the captain’s soul and dragged out the part of him that his primitive ancestors used to learn when to run from monsters. For here was a monster. Here in the dark.

“I … I …”

“You better leave now.”

“Yes. Yes sir.”

He ran.

And he never looked back.

* * *

“Aw man, was that really necessary?” wheedled a decidedly less terrifying voice once the pirate had completely left the area.

“Come on. That fight was boring, I needed to get some fun somewhere.”

Zoro and Usopp emerged from the trees to check on Chopper. “And that’s fun is it?” Usopp asked flatly.

“Yeah,” Zoro confirmed, looking off the way the pirate had run. “When someone thinks they’re going to mess with a member of this crew? Yeah, it is.”


	7. Prompt 16: The Eternal Excavation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin gets an interesting offer.

“Nico Robin?”

She looked up from the tome she was perusing in a quiet bookstore in the port city they lay anchored in for the next day or so. The speaker stood a little shorter than Robin herself, with unkept blonde hair that she’d tied back into an equally unkempt ponytail and blue eyes that stared at her with wide-eyed intensity.

“Yes?” Robin said cautiously. 

The woman’s face lit up. “I thought so! I’ve been trying to track you down ever since I heard you’d escaped from the World Government years ago. Followed rumors. But I never actually thought I’d catch up. It was like chasing a myth. The fabled daughter of Ohara, and … oh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Not bothering to suppress a small smile, Robin nodded.

“Oh gosh, I do that all the time. I’m so sorry. Do you have time to hear a request? We can grab something to eat. I’m not a bad person, I swear, I just have a request and I want you to hear me out. But I get it, if you can’t. I know you are doing big, really important things and I don’t want to get in the way.”

Robin considered the book in her hand. Then the woman. She reminded Robin a little of Soran. Anxious and dreamy and not quite sure what to do with herself. It could be a trap, but Robin thought it felt more like a plea. And if it were a trap … well, she wasn’t that worried. 

“Allow me to buy this,” she said. “Then we can talk if you like.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, the pair were sitting in a small, shady park, nibbling on surprisingly light, airy pastries covered with cinnamon and sugar. The stranger held hers in both hands and bit into them with relish, while Robin tore pieces off with her fingers to eat.

“So,” she said after a couple bites of the snack. “What is your name?”

The woman’s eyes widened as she stared at the ground, then looked up at Robin. “Ohmigosh,” she said. “I never … how rude, I’m so sorry!” Robin waited in silence a couple more seconds, until the woman added, “Oh! Rose. Rose Delver. Second in command of the Eternal Excavation.”

This caught Robin’s attention. “I understood the Eternal Excavation to be as much of a myth as the artifacts it sought to uncover,” she said. “How fascinating.”

“Um, yes,” the woman said, clearly unsure what Robin was referring to as fascinating. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of us.”

“It was a common tale where I grew up,” Robin said carefully. “An endless expedition exploring new islands for artifacts. Sometimes returning them to the descendants of the people involved. Sometimes taking them to a secret vault where they could be protected from all prying eyes. Roche, in particular was fond of the tale. Though Clover always told him to stop spreading tales. He advised us to ‘look for the stories of the real world, it has quite enough for any taste.’”

The woman’s smile turned into a broad grin. “To think I’m part of something that the famous archaeologists of Ohara talked about,” she said with a little sigh. And then, as though the name itself had cast a reminder, she added, “I am sorry. For what happened. They say when we heard, we went to see if we could help. But it was over by then, weeks and weeks over. My captain was on the Expedition even back then. His face, when he talks about it…” 

She trailed off for a few seconds, looking across the park, where several children chased one another. “He doesn’t much talk about it,” she said after a bit. “He just gets sad.”

Robin schooled her face to a careful neutrality. “It was very sad,” she said. “Much was lost.”

The woman nodded. “Yeah, so, I get it,” she said. “If you say no, I mean. But will you listen to a selfish request from the Expedition? From us all?”

Well, she was here. And it was a nice afternoon, and the pastry was pleasant, and they would not be leaving until the morning. “Very well,” Robin said, nodding for the woman to continue. 

Smiling in relief, she said, “Well, you know about us, so that makes it easier. We’re wondering if we could persuade you to join us. There is so much we could learn from you. And we’re exceptionally good at evasion. If anyone would ever come after you again from the government, we can hide you. They would never imprison you again. And we could finally seek out the poneglyphs.”

The woman said the last word with a kind of breathy reverence, as though she were referring to a god beyond her reach instead of physical, historical records. Robin could understand that. She’d seen several of them now, read their stories, and she still felt it every time -- that shivery feeling down her spine, raising goosebumps on her arms as she stood before something carved, so purposefully, centuries ago by someone who was likely long dead. They stood all these years later as a defiant memorial to the fact that history must be preserved, that no one should be allowed to obliterate it from the world. 

The very existence of the poneglyphs said from the past that what had happened to Ohara was wrong.

“You love history, don’t you?” Robin asked.

“Yes ma’am!” All hesitance had gone from Rose’s voice now -- she was sharing something she loved, and it animated her whole being. “I think there’s nothing in the world as interesting as learning about things that once were. It’s like you bring them through time for a moment, so you can try to connect with them.”

“That’s a lovely way of putting it,” Robin said. 

Her words startled Rose out of the reverie she’d fallen into. “Well,” she said, self-consciously smoothing her coveralls. “In addition to everything we can learn, we thought you might miss it. I mean… the camaraderie. Of being around people who feel that same joy in the same things.”

Robin smiled down at her own clasped hands for a moment. “I appreciate you seeking me out to ask me this,” she said. “But I don’t think I can accept your kind offer.”

Rose’s smile fell. “Was it something I said? I can be a bit of a fool sometimes and-”

Robin looked up at her, a gentle smile on her lips. “No,” she said. “It’s not that. It’s just that I have the camaraderie you speak of. Even if they don’t find their joy in history, the way you or I do, they find joy in the joy I find there. They don’t have to understand it to understand it’s important to me. And they show me how to see their joy in so many other things.”

“Other things?”

“In food. In music. In creating new things. In finding new places, new sights.” Robin let out a little laugh. When had she gotten so wordy with strangers? Maybe it wasn’t Soran this woman reminded her of. “Traveling with the expedition looking for history would be fascinating. But my crew lets me do that and so much more. They help me be my best. To grow.”

“It sounds like an amazing group to be part of,” Rose said, clearly trying to sound upbeat despite her clear disappointment. She couldn’t keep it off her face.

“They accept me for all parts of me,” Robin said by way of answer. “And I never wanted anything else.”


	8. The Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luffy is Coby's goal, and Helmeppo just wants to support him in that.

The whole thing had started with a piece of accidental intelligence on their way to a routine Marine check-in of several islands. Tonight, they’d stopped at Belle Rose Island to let one of the log pose’s needles reset. Belle Rose boasted a thriving city based around the grapes that grew on the hillsides (and the wine made from those grapes). The stop usually made for a pretty relaxing thirty-six hours when they couldn’t get an eternal pose issued for the outward trip. 

Helmeppo expected a pretty uneventful stay. It always was. But as a few of the senior officers were strolling around town and taking in the sights, a lovely young woman had caught their attention, gesturing furtively to Coby. 

As he had left the rest of the group to go talk to her, Lieutenant Parcell had leaned over to Helmeppo and whispered conspiratorially, “Poor girl’s about to get her heart broken.”

“Hmm,” Helmeppo said, unwilling to make such a judgment. Not that he didn’t think Coby would beg off if she really  _ did  _ want a date. They’d be leaving soon, and even if she was all right with one night and done, he wasn’t sure their young captain would be. The boy was  _ entirely  _ too innocent.

But either way, there had been something in that woman’s face. She didn’t look like some blushing maiden asking a cute guy out. She looked like she was scared of being seen. So Helmeppo and the lieutenant moved a little further down the road and took a seat on a low wall enclosing a little public garden. Parcell stared intently back at the alley where the woman had been -- seemed he was a bit of a romantic, that one -- but Helmeppo kept an eye on the surrounding area.

Something didn’t feel exactly right.

It took ten minutes for Coby to return to the street, turning toward the pair of officers as though on a sixth sense (which, honestly…). He didn’t look worried, but he did look stern as he approached. Helmeppo and Parcell hopped to their feet and threw a salute, which Coby returned. But immediately, he said, “Walk with me. We have something I’d like to look into.”

Neither of them questioned him. They just fell into step.

There was a long explanation, but the short version was, a group of thugs were terrorizing some of the people living on the far side of the island. With most of the island population (and the grapes) on this side of the island, local law enforcement hadn’t done anything serious about it.

Helmeppo got it. The island didn’t have a broad government, so the only centralized leadership was for the city. And the city law enforcement probably wasn’t really built to try to hunt down folks out in the countryside -- it was a fairly large island, with few ways to get from one place to another directly. 

It sucked for the furthest-flung farms, but he got it.

But now, they were here, and this was sort of what they were supposed to do, right? Justice. Justice for everyone. Coby certainly thought so, and his certainty was infectious. So that evening, the three of them and a handful of other volunteers from the crew had ambushed the attackers as they tried to ambush a shipment of corn from the other side of the island. Wasn’t much of a fight, in all honesty. Coby could have taken the lot himself. They’d apparently been put off a pirate ship on this island, and Helmeppo could see why. The guys never. Stopped. Complaining. 

“I told you we were hitting this road too often.”

“What, like we could have guessed a bunch of snot-nosed marine babies were going to show up?”

“Someone was going to!”

There were ten of them, all told, and they were complaining about  _ everything  _ on the walk back to the city. About the company. About their minor injuries. About the walk itself. But mostly they complained about how this was all everyone else’s fault.

“Look at them! You couldn’t tell they were marines before you called for the attack?”

“It was dark!”

“Their coats are WHITE! Come ON!”

They were giving Helmeppo a headache. He could see a couple of the others casting irritated glances at the line of pirates as well, but none of them said anything on their little evening stroll. Coby had command. If they needed to be silenced, he’d be the one to give the order.

“We were idiots to go against the captain.”

“Hell no. I’d rather face the marines than take part in that suicidal revenge fantasy.”

“Come on, we’d have them outnumbered and-”

“You think that matters if we’re facing that Straw Hat crew?”

Coby whirled on them. “What about the Straw Hats?”

Helmeppo recognized that tone -- the restrained eagerness Coby always had when talking about that Straw Hat kid, combined with an edge of worry. But apparently the pirates read more into it than that, because they all clammed up immediately. 

_ Sigh. _

Helmeppo drew one of his knives, tossing it in a lazy arc into the air. “I think our captain asked you something,” he said, letting a little of that old, haughty edge bleed into the words. “Since he’s the one making the report on your arrest, it might be … wise … for you to get on his good side.”

The chattiest one followed the arc of the knife up and down with his eyes. Once. Twice. And the third time, Helmeppo suddenly pointed it toward the line of pirates, which collectively flinched.

“Spill it.”

And they had. Their crew had been hired to help in a massive ambush, set up by kidnapping one of the Straw Hat crew’s friends. Apparently they were seeking to use sheer numbers to capture them. 

Helmeppo almost felt bad for the fools. The marines could have told them that against a truly serious pirate crew, numbers weren’t an advantage. They just sapped morale, as they got taken out in waves instead of one at a time. 

The attack would be in a couple days, on a little mass of vegetation barely enough to be called an island. And it just so happened to be near the next island on their chain to their destination. A place they’d be stuck three days anyway. 

It sounded suspicious as all hell to Helmeppo. But as the pirates explained this, he had snuck a couple glances at Coby. And he knew. Gods all damnit, he _ knew _that look. So once the pirates had been turned over to the authorities and they were back on their ship, Helmeppo had brought tea to his captain and asked about it.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” 

Coby tried to give him a “what are you talking about?” look, but the kid had  _ no  _ poker face. Helmeppo managed not to laugh at the attempt, but only just. 

But however poor he was at lying to people, he was good at  _ reading  _ people -- unsettlingly so these days. And so it wasn’t a surprise when, almost immediately, Coby realized he’d failed the bluff, sighed and looked toward one of the portholes. “Garp would say the marines need to know what these pirates are up to, right?”

“Garp has the benefit of being a vice admiral, and old. He has a lot more latitude to just go do what he wants,” Helmeppo said, but he wasn’t trying too hard. Coby’s friend was being set up. Coby wanted to go. No, he  _ had  _ to. Their discussion was really only a formality. 

“Yeah. But if there’s a chance to stop this whole thing from happening, it’s the right thing to do.”

“Sure. But doesn’t this all feel a little convenient to you? Maybe they’re not ambushing that Straw Hat kid. Maybe they’re setting  _ you  _ up.”

“Then I’ll just have to be careful.”

He could be so infuriating. Sometimes, Helmeppo wondered how the terrified kid he’d initially met had turned into this humble example of Marine justice. The guy who always wanted to do right, even when it was hard. Maybe  _ especially  _ when it was hard. Helmeppo wanted nothing more than for them to just stay safe on the ship and get on with their mission instead of putting themselves almost certainly on the more dangerous side of some grudge match. 

But what the heck. At this point, Helmeppo reflected, he’d probably end up following Coby into hell itself.

“I’ll give the crew shore leave while we’re waiting on the pose to reset,” Coby was saying. “And then just go check it out.”

“Oh? Are you sure we want to do this on our own?”

Coby raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to come.”

He said that. He believed it. But he didn’t understand -- not really. You’d think after all this time that he might have clued in. But no matter how well he got people generally, he  _ didn’t  _ seem to get -- ever -- the impact he had on the people around him. 

_ You don’t see it? If it weren’t for you, I’d either be worthless or dead. And you can sometimes be far too kind. So of course I’m going. Because you may be able to take care of yourself, but everyone needs someone to watch their back. ` _ __

All of which came out of Helmeppo’s mouth as, “It’d be boring to be left behind.”


	9. Prompt 30: Helping Those Who Help themselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usopp thinks this isn't really the time for a leisurely chat.

“So, how’re you doing?”

From his spot on the ground, pinned by a tree branch, Usopp sighed. “You know, not that great.”

“Yeah. I can tell by the complaining that you’re reeeal hurt down there.” Sanji lit a cigarette but just held it out between two fingers for the moment, letting a thin line of gray smoke sketch its way skyward. “So, what’s your next move?”

Overhead, something exploded, sending a shower of grit and twigs down into the little gully where the two were somewhat hidden. Sanji didn’t even flinch, he just blew a small scrap of bark out of his hair once it settled. 

Once he was sure things had settled back down for the moment, Usopp hissed, “Well if you’d  _ help me out  _ here, we could figure out where we’re being shot at from and get back to the ship.”

“For this?” Sanji asked as another of the explosive projectiles slammed into a tree trunk overhead. The wood blew apart into a cloud of splinters. 

“Well, what would  _ you  _ suggest?” Usopp asked. As the splinters settled down, he propped his front half up on his elbows, but looking at Sanji was a bit too difficult from this angle. “Since you apparently aren’t interested in my help.”

Sanji took a long drag from the cigarette. Exhaled. “Is that what you think?”

As another explosion went off, Usopp rolled his eyes. “Ok, did I offend you when we were running from this guy? Because I feel like getting this thing off me so we could get out of here would be real easy for you.”

“Would it?”

“Call it a hunch,” Usopp ground out. And still Sanji just stood there. He took another drag as the marksman hit yet another tree. “Come on, what is going on here?”

Another drag. Then Sanji asked, “Why were we running?”

“Because someone was  _ shooting  _ at us?”

“Which might make it hard for  _ me  _ to get at them quickly. But why were  _ you  _ running?”

Usopp paused, as though trying to figure out if this was a trick question. “Because … someone was shooting at us?”

Sanji made a  _ there you have it _ gesture.

“Sanji, come one! Will you just explain what it is you want? because this doesn’t hurt, but it isn’t exactly comfortable down here either.” Sanji just raised an eyebrow. “Fine. If you’re not going to help… I’ll just…” He braced his arms and legs and shoved upward. If he could just get this thing off himself…

He honestly expected it to be entirely useless, but at the very edge of the attempt, when he was just about to give up, he felt it shift, ever so slightly. So as another explosion went off overhead, he tried again. And again. The second time, the branch budged even less than the first time. By the third he wasn’t moving it at all again. After a fourth fruitless try, he appealed to Sanji again. “Come on, we’re running out of time.”

“What makes you think that?” Sanji asked, sounding bored.

Usopp dropped his head to the ground. After taking a deep breath, he said, “You can hear it in the sound of the ammo when it’s sailing. It’s fastest right out of the gun, right? Listen to enough of it and you can just kinda … tell.”

Sanji nodded. “Fair enough. And if you get loose, you’re going to … head back to the ship?”

“Of course!”

“With the shooter after us?”

Usopp paused at that. Then sighed. “Fine. Let me out.”

“And what?”

“And I’ll try to-”

“Nope.”

Usopp shot him an exasperated look. “What?” he asked. “What is this, some sort of challenge?” The latest explosion barely registered on either of their radars, though it was closer again. 

Another drag on the cigarette. “You could say that.”

“Then what do you want me to say? That if you get this stupid tree off me, I’ll jump up there and take the guy out?” Usopp shoved fruitlessly at the aforementioned branch once more.

Grinning, Sanji pointed at him with the two fingers that held the cigarette. “Yes! That is exactly it. Just say it.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll jump up and take the guy out if you-”

“But,” Sanji interrupted. “You have to mean it.”

Seriously? Were they seriously doing this in the middle of this guy trying to bag their bounties? They’d been caught out when coming back from shopping, chased here, been caught in one of the explosions and now … this?

But Sanji clearly wasn’t going to let this go. So Usopp took a deep breath. Yeah. He could almost feel where the guy was. Would this be a hard shot? They were in a forest, but either the guy was able to get a line of sight, or he was guessing. Could Usopp find him? Yeah. He thought so. Could he hit him?

Definitely yes.

“Yeah,” Usopp said. “Yeah, I can get him.”

He barely finished saying that when Sanji lashed out, one foot lifting and shoving the branch up and off the sniper. “Well then. Let’s go.”

Hefting his weapon, Usopp nodded. No smile. He was listening, waiting, ready.

“Let’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 1: “No, come back!” -- Brooke has dreams about people leaving.  
> Prompt 2: "That’s the easy part." -- Franky wonders why Usopp works so hard to avoid fighting.  
> Prompt 3: “You did this?” -- Bartolomeo knows about Hakuba, but sometimes it’s still hard to understand.  
> Prompt 6: “That was impressive.” -- Usopp and Zoro get in a rumble.  
> Prompt 8: “I’m not doing that again.” -- Usopp has to be brave in a new way.  
> Prompt 14: “You better leave now.” — Zoro doesn’t like when people mess with his crew.  
> Prompt 16: “I never wanted anything else.” -- Robin gets an interesting offer.  
> Prompt 18: “You don’t see it?” -- Coby is always looking relentlessly forward.  
> Prompt 30: “Just say it” -- Sanji COULD help. But he wants Usopp to understand his own strength


End file.
